


What Comes After

by Reidluver



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: But he doesn't want anyone to know, Drowning, Dylan is a mess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team as Family, guilty!Danny, it's Dylan's turn to be taken care of, thankfully he's no longer alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7434302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reidluver/pseuds/Reidluver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into Dylan's rescue from the other Horsemen's perspective, as well as the aftereffects of what transpired. Dylan does his best to act like nothing happened, but the others notice. They're determined to help him realize he's not just their leader but a part of the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> A few quick notes before we begin:
> 
> \- I have no idea where the observatory is that they ended up at the end of the movie, so forgive any mistakes on my part.  
> \- Personally, I don’t like that Thaddeus was part of the Eye. In my story, he wasn’t Lionel’s rival. He’s just a bitter man who was jealous of all those who succeeded where he failed. _(why would the Eye let Dylan incriminate one of their own?)_ I explain my take further in the story. Instead of showing up at the end of the movie, he’s last seen escaping the FBI vehicle.  
>  \- I feel Jack and Lula got together too fast. In my fic they’re still warming up to each other, playing the role of good friends teasing each other.

Lula, Jack, and Merritt idly walked through the Chinese marketplace, nerves on edge as they waited for Danny to give them the all clear. Personally, Lula didn't understand why the rest of them couldn't be there for the drop-off. Sure, Danny was the unofficial second-in-command, but they were all part of the Eye. Why would Danny get singled out? 

She held her tongue though. Being thrust into a group with two years of history together was tricky stuff. She acted as nonchalant as she could, but it wasn't easy. The four men were still mourning the loss of Henley, especially Danny. It was why Lula broke into his place and introduced herself the way she did. This way, Danny would have a reason to hate her that had nothing to do with Henley.

Lula tried to be more than a cheap replacement, but it was impossible not to feel that way. Secretly, she kept her fingers crossed that Henley would return. Preferably with them becoming Six Horsemen, because Lula didn't want to leave. It wasn't fair to have only one girl on the team anyway, and Henley would be a perfect partner in crime. The guys were great and all, but the team needed another woman to balance out the stupid.

There was also the fact that Lula was desperate to learn some escapism magic from Henley. Lula had some elaborate tricks she wanted to try, but was stuck on how to get herself out. Henley's wisdom would be invaluable.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the tantalizing aroma of roast duck. Lula's mouth watered. She was just about to suggest they buy some when Jack stopped. 

"Hey guys, is that Danny?" She and Merritt followed Jack's gaze. It was Danny all right, but he was behaving strangely. His movements were erratic, like he couldn't decide which direction to go. Lula's gut fluttered uncomfortably at what it could mean. Had the Eye refused to help them? By getting caught did the Eye consider them a liability? 

Merritt approached Danny first. “What’s going on?”

“Did something happen?" Lula asked. Danny stayed silent, his brow furrowed the way it did when he was stuck on a problem. He probably didn't even notice they were there. "Atlas!”

He jumped. It was odd to see him so skittish. “Hmm? It’s just, I don’t know . . . I-I—” Danny looked so disheveled and disoriented Lula was worried he'd been drugged with something. "Dylan was here and—"

"Dylan?" Lula perked up at the news. She remembered hearing the voice blow his cover back at Octa, but none of them knew what happened to him since then. "How did he find us?" A flash of pain and guilt crossed his face and Danny looked away. Lula's blood chilled at the implications.

“What are they doing?” Jack asked, drawing everyone's attention to a large, open truck at the far end of the street. Lula couldn't be sure, but the people loading boxes and crates looked familiar.

“Those are Walter’s men." Danny reached into his coat and pulled out the card, chip still attached. "This is what they want.”

“Wait, what the hell?" Lula said. "Why do you still have that?” Did this mean he didn't meet with the Eye at all? 

“That’s Lionel Shrike’s safe," Merritt muttered, squinting at the truck. "What the hell do they want with that?” 

There was a pregnant pause until Jack let out a strangled gasp. “Oh _shit!_ ” He bolted after the truck, knocking people and tables over without a second glance. At that moment the truck began to leave, but Jack only ran faster.

“Wait, what? What’s he doing?” Lula glanced back and forth between Danny and Merritt but they looked as confused as she did. Then the two of them gaped at each other in some sort of shared horror.

“You don’t think—” Danny began.

“He would,” Merritt answered. The both of them took off after Jack and after a moment’s hesitation so did Lula.

“You guys what’s _happening?_ ” she yelled, doing her best to dodge the fallen furniture and angry pedestrians. “If I twist my ankle in these heels one of you will have to carry me to wherever the hell you're going!”

No one responded or looked back. Lula growled and stumbled to a stop. She could easily take off her heels and run barefoot, but she still had the massive coat from earlier. The logical thing to do would be to ditch it, but she’d be damned if she let go of something so expensive. Being a magician on the run wasn’t exactly the most lucrative job. Why deny herself a few nice things?

But what to do? The boys were in a panic for an unknown reason; something to do with Dylan. Lula hated being left in the dark, but answers would have to wait. As the only one with a level head, she needed to take charge. None of them were capable of outrunning a truck, even Jack _(no matter how toned and athletic he looked)_.

She turned back around. One of the street vendors was cursing in Chinese as he picked up his overturned vegetable crates. There was a flash of reflected light and Lula’s eyes were drawn to the man's back pocket. 

Normally she’d have a little fun and sweet talk her targets but this was an emergency. It wasn’t the time for an elaborate con. She rushed over to the man and “tripped” into him.

“I’m so, so sorry, sir! Damn heels.” She wrenched them off with a huff. “I swear, one of these days I’m gonna end up in a cast, y'know what I mean?” The man mumbled something and pointedly ignored her.

Lula took a few steps toward the front of a black and red van whose logo matched the one on the crates. With an exaggerated sigh, she bent over as if to place her heels back on. Once all eyes were off her, Lula unlocked the vehicle and jumped inside. She made it about fifteen feet before the man noticed.

“Sorry!” she yelled out the window. “I’ll bring it back I promise!”

\--

Merritt and Danny were silently cursing their luck as they chased after Jack. Neither of them were in terrible shape, but hypnotism and flashy card tricks didn’t require much physical prowess. Jack on the other hand—well, there was a reason they chose him to lead the FBI on a merry little chase. That kid was _fast_.

“This rate we’ll lose him!” Danny huffed.

Merritt only nodded, unwilling to waste precious energy trying to speak. He fought back the worry for Dylan to focus on Jack. They needed to stop him. In his frenzied state he was going to get himself killed. 

Ever since Dylan's dramatic reveal over a year ago, Jack looked up to the man with an alarming fervor. The devotion was only heightened by their shared "jack-of-all-trades" skill set _(if one pardoned the phrase)_. While it was common for magicians to be well-rounded, everyone leaned toward their area of expertise. 

Jack and Dylan however, had the rare gift of excelling at anything they set their mind to. It was one of the main reasons why Jack asked Merritt to instruct him in hypnotism. After discovering Dylan could do it, Jack was insistent on learning himself. In the interest of not being shown up, Merritt agreed on the grounds that Jack teach him card tricks.

Probably what made Jack the happiest though, was when he and Dylan sparred together. Apparently Dylan had been so impressed by Jack’s abilities when they fought, he wanted a chance to fight back on equal terms. It easily became a regular thing, and Merritt had to admit it was mesmerizing. They traded blows with magic, threw with deadly accuracy, turned any object within reach into a weapon; they created an entirely new martial art form. It would be a hit as a future trick, but Dylan had his FBI alias to worry about. Now that cover was blown, but it wouldn’t mean anything if Walter got what he wanted . . .

A dark van with some Chinese logo sped past them and screeched to a halt, effectively cutting them off. Merritt yanked on the back of Danny's coat to keep him from crashing into it. After a moment's pause the side door slid open. 

It was Lula. “Get in.”

Merritt grinned. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” They scrambled into the van which was stacked with crates of strange vegetables and bottles of various sauces. 

“Jack?” Lula asked, back in the driver's seat.

“Up ahead.” Lula sped off without a word and Merritt and Danny struggled to shut the door without falling out. There weren't any seats beside the two in front, so Danny sat on a ten gallon bucket while Merritt chose a crate. 

Now that they were in a vehicle, they caught up with Jack in no time at all. He almost bolted when they pulled up beside him, but Lula rolled down the window and yelled out a greeting. Jack didn't wait for the van to finish stopping. In one swift motion he yanked open the passenger door and jumped in. Merritt noted he didn't sound winded at all, the bastard. 

“So does anyone wanna clue me in on what’s going on here?” Lula kept her foot on the brake and glared at each of them in turn. “Because I don’t appreciate being left out and you guys are _really_ freaking me out!”

“Walter’s gonna kill Dylan so we have to save him, _go!_ ” Jack yelled. He looked half crazed with panic and Merritt was worried he’d rip the wheel out of Lula’s hands. 

“But how do you know he’s in that truck?” she said. “What if we’re following the wrong guys and—”

“We’re not.” Danny sunk into his seat, voice soft and eyes trained on the ground. “They’ll lead us to where Dylan is.” He rubbed his temples as if plagued by a terrible migraine.

“Lionel Shrike is Dylan’s father,” Merritt said softly, noting her anger for what it was. Jack was too strung up to be thinking clearly and for whatever reason Danny was being uncharacteristically mellow.

“Shrike?” Lula frowned. “The magician who died in a safe at the bottom of a lake or something?”

Merritt nodded. “And now—”

“Now they’ve got a safe and they’re going to _kill_ Dylan and we’ve got to _move!_ ” Jack smacked the dashboard and Lula reflexively slammed on the gas.

“Right, just um, I’ll just . . . wh-where did they go? How do we find them?” Lula's skin was pale, their panic now mirrored in her eyes.

“They’ll be near the river somewhere,” Danny said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. “With something big enough to drop him in the water.”

“Great, let’s go, _go!_ ”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Lula snapped. The van increased in speed and Merritt’s stomach twisted uncomfortably with the lurch.

“Whoa, not too fast, all right?” He couldn’t see the speedometer from his position but any officer worth their badge would pull them over in a heartbeat. “I know time is of the essence, but we’re no use to Dylan if we get caught.”

Lula’s response was a verbal grunt but she slowed down to a more manageable speed. With that taken care of, Merritt turned his attention to Danny. 

The man in question was now bent over, hands cradling his head. For a moment Merritt could only stare. Danny was usually so focused on upholding his “aloof” persona _(especially in the wake of Henley’s departure)_. It was jarring to see him openly show how rattled he was. Perhaps this was just his way of expressing concern for Dylan, but Merritt couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it. Had Walter found Danny before he met with the Eye and Dylan saved him? Had Dylan been the one the Eye sent to pick them up? 

Either way, it wouldn’t explain why Danny was acting so guilty. Dylan was their leader, so of course he’d take the fall. Merritt wanted to ask for specifics, but now wasn’t the time. Saving Dylan was top priority. He could find out what happened later.


	2. The Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. It would have been out sooner but then the medical side of me kept pointing out how you _can’t just walk away from a near-drowning_ , so the story went from three chapters to four. I’ve been so focused on the psychological aspect I didn’t stop to think about the physical.

It didn’t take long to find where Dylan had been taken. When they came near the river, there was a structure on the opposite side of the embankment that was ever so helpfully lit up. After concealing the van in a cluster of bushes and trees, the four Horsemen crept toward a better vantage point, taking care to avoid being spotted. 

They watched as the bound Dylan was strong-armed onto the upper landing, his head covered in cloth. Walter was off to the side, speaking with a man in white whose back was to them. When Walter moved to confront Dylan, the unknown man turned around.

_“Tressler?”_

The Horsemen were too stunned to move. Meanwhile, Merritt’s mind was in overdrive. Walter had offhandedly referred to Tressler Insurance as the company he’d lost stocks in. His monetary loss should have been a minor inconvenience though, since Walter practically owned Macau. And for someone so concerned with being off the grid, why bother contacting Tressler in the first place when all Walter wanted was the chip—

“Holy shit that’s his father.”

“What?” At that moment, Walter stepped back and Tressler wrapped an arm around him in a way that was far too familiar for business partners.

Jack whistled. “I think you’re right.”

“That tiny little psychopath is his son?” Lula shook her head and chuckled humorlessly. “So um, I guess this makes the whole situation worse, huh?”

No one answered but the tension in the air thickened. Tressler had real motive for revenge on his side, with a cold and ruthless personality to match. 

“Is he seriously pouring himself a cup of tea?” Danny said, speaking up for the first time in minutes.

“Why the hell—”

“Oh my god!” Lula covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide with horror. “They’re really going to do it.”

“Do what?” The others shifted their attention from Tressler to Dylan, who was struggling against the men on either side of him. He was flailing about in sheer desperation, and after a moment the others noticed why. The revelation made Merritt sick to his stomach.

They were dragging him toward the safe.

While Merritt had known this was a possibility, having to watch it happen was an entirely different matter; especially with Dylan’s panicked cries in the background. Being stuffed in a safe like that would be traumatic for anyone, but Merritt couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Dylan. Mentalism required a certain grasp of human psychology, so he knew if they managed to save Dylan there would be major repercussions.

The Horsemen watched helplessly as two more men rushed forward to shove Dylan in the safe. The door slammed shut with a resounding click and Jack flinched at the sound. The top of the safe was then attached to a crane, and at Walter’s command it plunged into the river. 

Jack immediately rushed forward but Merritt and Danny each grabbed an arm. “The hell are you doing?” Jack shrieked.

“Keeping your ass from getting shot,” Merritt said. He leaned closer and nudged his head in Tressler’s direction. “They’re not just gonna drop him in and leave. They’ll want to uh, well . . .”

“Make sure he’s dead?” Jack spat. His lips were curled into a snarl, eyes murderous. Merritt had to hand it to the kid; he could look damn scary when he wanted to. The effect was dulled however by the trembling in his arm. “So what, we just wait here and—and sip tea like those bastards while Dylan drowns to death?”

“No, we wait until they leave to jump to the rescue.”

Jack growled but made no further attempt to move forward. Danny let go but Merritt kept his hold. He knew the next couple minutes were going to be torture. Holding Jack back was as much for the kid’s benefit as it was for his own.

The seconds crawled by as they stood there with bated breath. Merritt tried to maintain his composure, but was unable to quell his mounting anger. How could Tressler and Walter just _sit_ there after condemning a man to death? Merritt eventually looked away, else he let go of Jack in favor of charging in himself. The younger man was breathing harshly beside him, face pinched as if restraining himself was causing physical harm. 

To Merritt's left was Lula. She tapped her foot impatiently and chewed her nails. In contrast, Danny stood absolutely still. He stared at the spot where Dylan had disappeared with a tortured resignation. 

Just as Merritt was about to go mad from waiting, Tressler and Walter made their way toward the stairs. 

"Now's our—" 

Danny shoved past them and flicked the card with the chip to Jack who caught it instinctively. Once Danny reached the river's edge, he threw off his coat and dove in. 

"Did he just . . ." Lula's voice trailed off as the three of them gaped at the river. Now Merritt _knew_ Danny felt guilty about something. He wouldn’t have jumped in like that otherwise. What the hell had happened back there?

"Take this." Jack slipped the card into Merritt's pocket and tore off his leather jacket. 

"And just what are _you_ doing?" Merritt asked. 

"Helping,” Jack scoffed. “You think Danny can open the safe?" Jack rummaged through his pant pockets and dug out a battered lockpick kit and flashlight. Jack clicked it on and charged into the water. 

For a moment, everything was silent. Merritt crouched at the bank of the river, staring intently for any sign of movement while Lula paced beside him. Time once again stood still and their hope dwindled each time Danny or Jack came up for air without Dylan.

Finally, after the longest stretch between resurfacing, Jack and Danny broke the water at the same time, gasping for air with a limp figure between them. Jack struggled to get Dylan’s head above water while Danny pulled them to shore. Merritt ran out into the water until he was waist-deep and helped haul Dylan onto the riverbank.

“Great job with the safe, guys,” Lula said, running around them to get Dylan’s feet. 

Danny shook his head. “Already open when we found him.” 

“Wait, really?” 

The four of them gently laid Dylan down and knelt beside him. He lay there soaking wet, pale, and unmoving. Jack undid the handcuffs around Dylan’s wrists and flung them to the side. 

“Dylan?” Jack’s voice wavered. “Come on buddy. _Breathe.”_

“Dylan!”

“We’ll have to do CPR,” Merritt said. He placed a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder to push him away. “Let me—”

Danny pushed roughly on Dylan’s stomach and water erupted from his mouth. He immediately began gasping and sputtering, staring at each of them in turn with unfocused eyes.

“You’re okay,” Danny said once Dylan’s gaze rested on him. Recognition flashed in his eyes and his head dropped back in relief. Merritt’s body sagged forward as he and the rest of the Horsemen let out the breath they’d been holding.

“Jesus, you scared the hell out of us, man,” Jack said.

“Are you—whoa!" Dylan tried sitting up too quickly but the others steadied him. “Give yourself a chance to catch your breath,” Merritt said. “We’re in no hurry.” 

Dylan nodded and looked at each of them again, as if making sure they were really there. His eyes widened at Danny and Jack’s wet hair.

“Thanks,” he wheezed. 

“It was the least I could do,” Danny muttered, glancing at the ground. 

Dylan grasped Danny’s shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. "There was . . . a hell of a lot less you could have done.” 

“Not an option,” Lula said, shaking her head. 

Merritt held out the chip. "You took a bullet for us.” 

“Seriously, thanks for pulling me out guys,” Dylan said. Jack smiled weakly while Danny looked away.

“You got yourself out,” Lula said. Her tone was forceful but she blinked furiously. “We did the easy part. I mean literally in my case I just stood on the shore while they rushed in and got you.”

Dylan chuckled and reached out to take her hand. Lula smiled at the gesture before shrieking, “Oh my god, you’re like ice!” Dylan frowned but at that moment a breeze picked up and Dylan started to shiver violently. It was like he hadn’t noticed until Lula mentioned it. 

_Not good,_ Merritt thought. _Shock? Hypothermia?_ What even were the side effects of drowning? “We’ve got to get you warmed up,” Merritt said. They might as well start with the obvious.

"On it!” Lula sprinted to the van. She returned with a bundle of blankets as they got Dylan to his feet, though Merritt was more or less supporting all his weight. “I um, saw these in the van earlier. Here, put them on. They smell like ginger or something, but they should dry you off." 

They wrapped Dylan in the thickest one, but Merritt knew it wouldn’t be enough. His movements were sluggish and Merritt didn’t like the glazed look to his eyes. They needed to get him completely out of his wet clothes. For the moment though, this would have to do. 

“So where do we g-g-go now?” Jack asked, his teeth chattering. He and Danny were drying themselves off as best they could with the thin sheets they’d been given. 

Lula raised her hand sheepishly. “Back by the magic shop at least. I uh, kinda stole the van from some guy and promised to return it.” 

“I’m . . . v-very gratef—”

“Ho-kay, let me stop you right there,” Merritt said as Dylan’s knees buckled. “We’re gonna get you inside the van so you can lie down. You better save your strength or I’ll end up carrying you bridal style.” Dylan opened his mouth in protest so Merritt tried a different tactic. 

“We’re going to have to remove your clothes anyway, so unless that’s what you _want—_ ” Dylan smacked his arm and Merritt laughed. The going was slow, but they eventually made it to the van. 

They sat Dylan on the edge of the van floor and went to work. In the interest of time _(and Dylan’s dignity)_ they removed all clothes except his pants. Dylan nearly passed out when they took his shirt off. His chest was peppered with bruises and moved unevenly when he breathed. 

“How ‘bout you put this on?” Merritt took off his suit jacket _(transferring the chip to his shirt pocket as an afterthought)_ and helped Dylan put his arms through the sleeves. He did his best to be gentle but Dylan still hissed at the movement. “Well uh, I’ll admit it might be a little scratchy so sorry for that. I’d offer you my shirt but you’ve already been through enough tonight. No sense in subjecting you to the sight of old man chest hair.” 

It was a pathetic attempt at humor _(even by his standards)_ but Dylan’s smile let Merritt know it was appreciated. 

“Um, I hate to bring this up, but I think we need to take him to a hospital,” Jack said. He bit his lip and gestured to Dylan’s bruises. “Those look bad.”

Dylan shook his head and coughed. “No time,” he rasped.

“But you’re hurt!” 

“None of my ribs are broken. I’ll be fine I just . . . just need some medicine and a ventilator.” 

Lula snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll have that at the local Chinese Walmart. Here.” She took off her coat and draped it around Dylan. He hummed and burrowed into it with a sleepy grin. A fond smile broke out on Lula’s face and she wrapped him in the other blankets. The others insisted he use them and Dylan didn’t have much energy to protest. 

Jack and Danny had removed their soaked shirts as well and were currently huddled in their coats. It wasn’t as warm against their bare skin, but it was better than nothing. 

“What kind of medicine do you need?” Danny asked. It wasn’t as demanding of a question as he’d normally ask, but Merritt was grateful he was at least saying something. The whole silent act was starting to freak him out. 

Dylan closed his eyes to think. “Uh . . . Nitropress or some hypertension medication. They’ll lessen the pressure on my lungs.” He covered his mouth and let out a few hacking coughs. 

“What, is drowning a standard topic in FBI training?” Lula asked. 

“It’s not.” There was silence as the others tried to puzzle out his response, but Merritt knew exactly what he meant.

“Well, as great as this reunion has been,” Merritt said quickly, “I suggest we skedaddle. Walter’s boys might come back to snoop around and I don’t want to be here if that happens.”

“Good plan.” 

“Wait!” Danny held up a hand. There was a slight tremble to his form and a desperate look in his eyes. “Look, before we go, I . . . I just want to apologize for screwing this all up.”

“Atlas—”

“No, it’s all my fault! Walter used my ego to trick me into thinking I was meeting with the Eye a few months ago then used one of his gadgets to get information off my phone. That’s how he found out where you were staying,” he said, gesturing to Merritt. “So um, you were actually right about me being the leak, sorry.” 

Merritt blinked. He _had_ been wondering how in the world his idiotic brother managed to find him. Now it all made sense. There was no point in getting angry about it, though. He could tell Danny was completely sincere, more sincere than Merritt had thought him capable of being. Merritt tried to signal Danny that he was forgiven, but Danny’s gaze was trained at the ground. He was frozen, like he hadn’t planned on what to do next. Given his personality, Merritt knew that had to be terrifying. 

“Don’t beat yourself up about this, Atlas,” Dylan said. He maneuvered a hand out of his many blankets and reached for Danny. Unfortunately he was too far away and Dylan nearly stumbled out of the van. Everyone rushed forward to catch him. 

Dylan latched onto Danny’s forearm as they all sat him back down. Danny tensed at the touch but kept his eyes trained downward. 

“Hey, come on, kid, look at me.” Danny blinked furiously before slowly lifting his head. Dylan smiled and squeezed Danny’s shoulder with his other hand. “Everyone makes mistakes, all right? Even smart-asses like you.” Danny chuckled weakly at the tease.

“To prove it, after Bradley was arrested I visited him in his cell and I uh, I gloated.” Dylan sighed. “Stupid I know, but I did it. Couldn’t resist letting him know I was the one pulling the strings. Had to see his face. I shouldn’t . . . he knew that . . . could . . . it was—”

“Dylan!” 

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed sideways. Merritt caught him just before he crashed and immediately placed a hand in front of Dylan’s mouth. “He’s still breathing,” Merritt said. “He doesn’t sound so good though.” His breaths were faint and gurgled. Merritt swore. “I think he’s still got water in his lungs!” 

Both Jack and Lula stilled at the news, but Danny’s eyes gained a firm edge to them. 

“All right, guys,” he said, in the most authoritative tone Merritt had heard for hours. “I wish there was another way, but we have no choice. Thanks to Walter, a hospital is out of the question. We’ve got some medicine and a ventilator to steal.” The others straightened at his words, determination etched in their expressions.

Jack shrugged. “We’re already fugitives.” 

“ _Magical_ fugitives,” Lula added. 

“And it’s not like we haven’t done this sort of thing before,” Merritt said, patting the chip in his breast pocket. 

Danny grinned. “Then let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was sooner than I anticipated stopping. Oh well, I added what needed to be added. And don’t worry, Danny fans. There’s still more guilt he has to work through, but he’s addressed enough for the moment.


	3. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was away on vacation and wasn’t able to work much on writing. Then Jack decided he had a few things to say and that lengthened the chapter. 
> 
> Oh and uh—sorry, Dylan.

Jack dutifully watched each rise and fall of Dylan's chest; the way the oxygen mask fogged when he exhaled. There was no longer a bluish tinge to his skin, but he was still much too pale for Jack’s liking. Their heist went remarkably well though, all things considered. Merritt and Lula played the part of an obnoxious father and daughter to distract the clinic staff while Jack and Danny snuck into the supply room. 

To their dismay, the two discovered medical ventilators were _not_ travel-size. Fortunately Jack had managed to palm a smartphone from a nurse just as the others caused their diversion. Danny changed the settings to English and searched for alternatives. They settled on something called a CPAP machine. 

Jack went to the pharmacy next. He walked slowly to get the layout and took note of where the cameras were. A few well aimed cards and the camera focus shifted to the top of each aisle shelf. It was a subtle change that didn't alert security and kept Jack's thievery out of sight. 

Unfortunately, that was the easy part. All forms of thievery followed a basic pattern, but stealing in a small area with without a distraction left little room for error. For one thing the timing had to be perfect. Take too long and the pharmacist might offer assistance. Be too quick and security would pick you up in a second. Then there was the attitude. You had to act like you belonged, so no glancing around. You had to stretch your other senses to keep a lookout. 

After years of practice, Jack could tell how many people were in a room with his eyes shut. His concentration skills were honed to perfection. At the moment however, he couldn’t get the image of Dylan collapsing out of his mid. When it happened he had frozen at the sight, unable to breathe. 

It was the same reaction he had fifteen years ago on the worst day of his life. 

Jack’s vision wavered as he was brought back to that terrible morning. He was so young, he had no idea what was going on. He could only stare in horror with no clue how to save her. If only he knew to—

His thoughts were interrupted by someone speaking Chinese. A woman was at the front desk asking a question. The pharmacist then directed her to an aisle and Jack shook his head violently. 

He was being ridiculous. Things were different now. He was no longer a helpless child. Jack straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. He located the medicine Danny told him to get and focused on the sounds around him. To his relief, the woman was now about to make her purchase. 

As she and the pharmacist talked, Jack slipped the medicine inside his jacket and muffled the sound with a cough. Then he casually left to join the others.

Merritt was about to hypnotize the owner of the van when they returned it, but to their relief the man took one look at Dylan and waved them off. He even let them keep one of the blankets. Jack made a mental note to repay him for his kindness one day. 

Now they were stationed in the back of the magic shop. Li's grandmother Bu-Bu cleared off a table for Dylan to lie on then left to make tea. Jack couldn't help but be suspicious of their generosity in light of all that happened. It must have shown on his face because Li explained they knew about Walter. They knew he made a game out of people’s lives and any enemy of his was a friend of theirs. Then Li joked that since Jack bought those light-up thumbs they were valued customers.

Jack idly rubbed the edge of a blanket _(one of many piled on top of Dylan)_ between his fingers. "Come on, Dylan, wake up," he whispered. Perhaps Dylan sleeping was a good thing, but it made Jack nervous. It was too similar to how he looked when they pulled him out of the water. The breathing was obviously an improvement but the oxygen mask stirred more painful memories. It was strong enough to replace the smell of incense with antiseptic. 

His eyes began to sting and Jack glanced upward, blinking furiously. After he regained control Jack snuck a glance over to the others. They were arguing in furious whispers, the stress from the past few days bleeding through. Now that Dylan was out of immediate danger they were trying to figure out what to do next. In doing so, Merritt had pulled the chip out from his pocket.

A layer of film peeled off to their shock. They weren’t sure what that meant, but at this point they could only assume the worst. 

"We could really use your help right now." Jack swallowed against the lump in his throat and lowered his voice. "I uh . . . you can't do this to me, okay? You can't leave. Not like this." _Not like_ he _did._ Jack reached out and grasped Dylan's hand. 

“Please wake up.” 

Silence was his only response. Jack scoffed. Who was he fooling? That kind of stuff only happened in the movies. _You should know that by now,_ he told himself. _Never forget what you are._

Without letting go of Dylan’s hand, Jack reached into one of the secret pockets in his jacket. He pulled out the tarot card and flipped it over. 

_Death._

“I almost didn’t come you know,” he said after a pause. “I saw this and . . . I mean how could you know? I thought that—I just didn’t . . .” Jack sighed. He tightened his grip on Dylan’s hand. “Just . . . don’t end up like them, okay?” 

Dylan’s breath hitched and Jack leapt to his feet. Was Dylan waking up or struggling to breathe? With his eyes still closed, Dylan let go of Jack’s hand to weakly throw his arms around. It was like he was fighting off invisible foes or trying to claw his way out— 

_He must still think he’s in the safe,_ Jack realized with horror. He slid the breathing mask off and grasped Dylan’s shoulders. 

“Hey don’t—Dylan, _Dylan!_ ” The moment Jack touched him Dylan sat up and tried shoving him away. In hindsight probably not the best move but there was no going back now. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s me, Jack. I’ve got you.” 

Dylan opened his eyes at that. He stared at Jack with such relief Jack fought back the urge to crush him in a hug. Dylan opened his mouth to speak but hunched forward in moist, raspy coughs. Jack gently rubbed his back, unwilling to let go just yet.

“Seems we got the last of that water out,” Merritt said, now standing around the table with the others.

“Here, take this.” Danny held out two pills and a cup of water. Dylan took them with trembling hands and swallowed the pills before greedily downing the entire glass at once. 

“Thanks,” he wheezed. Dylan shifted himself into a better sitting position and froze when he caught sight of his chest. “Wh-what the hell?” He was dressed in a silky Chinese robe of some sort that was purple with green and white flowery designs. 

“I did mention taking your clothes off, if you remember,” Merritt said with a wink. “Don’t worry, I was a complete gentleman about it and shooed all the kiddos away.” He leaned in close before speaking in a stage whisper. “It’s a little short so you probably don’t want to lift your arms up too high.” 

Jack and Lula laughed while Danny cracked a smile. Dylan leveled Merritt with a glare but it was hardly intimidating considering he narrowly escaped death just over an hour ago. Jack’s smile slipped off his face. 

“Bu-Bu dried your clothes,” Lula said, oblivious to Jack’s dark thoughts. She gestured to a pile on a nearby chair. “There wasn’t enough time for a wash so fair warning they still smell like green scum.” She wrinkled her nose. “Actually all you boys smell like green scum. I vote everyone takes a shower.” 

“Not until we figure out our next step,” Dylan said. He pulled the top blanket around his torso and shifted his legs over the edge of the table. Despite moving slowly he still ended up hissing and doubled over. 

“Dylan!” Jack reached out to help but Dylan held up a hand. 

“I-I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth. 

Lula folded her arms and glared. “Like hell you are.” 

“It’s nothing, I just—” Danny cut him off by sticking a thermometer in his mouth. Dylan glowered but Danny ignored him. When it beeped Danny took it out, read the display, and held it out for Dylan to see. 

“35.7°C,” he spat. “Your core temperature isn’t back to normal yet. Li said his grandmother is making you soup. You’re going to get dressed, eat the soup, and _then_ we’ll figure out our next step.” 

“But we—”

Merritt shook his head. “I’m gonna stand by Danny-boy on this one.” Jack and Lula took a step closer to the others and nodded.

“You’re outnumbered, Dylan,” Lula said. 

Dylan considered them all with a calculating expression. It only took a minute before all resistance left him in one fell swoop. “Guess you’re right,” he mumbled. While Jack wasn’t too thrilled in the fact that Dylan had to be so exhausted he didn’t have the strength to argue, he figured the little victories were what mattered. 

Jack helped Dylan get down from the table and Lula handed him his clothes. “There’s a place you can change over there,” she said. 

As Dylan hobbled toward the spot Lula indicated, Jack couldn’t help but frown. Why was Dylan acting so embarrassed? He had almost died! It wasn’t like any of them expected him to bounce back to perfect health immediately.

He had to know the other Horsemen cared about him. Right?

\--

_Two days later_

In the safety of one of the observatory’s luxurious bathrooms, Dylan arched his back and moaned at all the creaking joints. The past few days had been hellish, to say the least. Granted, he and the others had been successful in exposing Tressler and his son, but the process had been grueling. Upon fleeing the barge they hopped in a car and drove all through the night and most of the morning. Everyone took turns and somehow managed to make it to the observatory in one piece.

Li and Bu-Bu were already there waiting for them. Once they went inside, Bu-Bu brought them to a room that revealed how nearly everything had been part of the big plan all along. Dylan shouldn’t have been surprised. It was irking to know the Eye had been there the whole time, but he couldn’t argue with results. His team now worked as a single organism. 

Plus he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t relieving to be introduced by his _real_ name. To be granted the chance to finally step out of the shadows and accept his father’s legacy.

Dylan traced his father’s watch. He should have realized it years ago, how his dad planned to escape that safe. _(The watch was even labeled_ Escape— _how could he have missed that?)_ If it hadn’t been for Thaddeus’s words . . .

Bu-Bu had pulled him aside just before entering the room. She told him how Thaddeus had pleaded with them on his behalf about the watch and explained how Tressler planned to murder him. That despite Thaddeus’s feelings for what Dylan had done, he knew he owed it to Lionel to save his son. The apology was 30 years too late, but Dylan couldn’t deny his begrudging gratitude. And while he preferred Thaddeus continue rotting in jail, at least he could rest comfortably in the fact that the man was just as much a fugitive as he was. 

With that happy note, Dylan began shedding his clothes. Aside from his dip in the river, he hadn’t had a chance to bathe since this whole thing started. There just wasn’t any time. But now it was all over, and the Eye had promised plenty of time for rejuvenation.

He caught sight of his chest in the mirror and winced. Walter’s men had done a real number on him. Thankfully he had been right about no broken ribs, but his stomach was spotted yellow, blue, and green. As they schemed how to get back at Walter, Bu-Bu had brought him aside to dress his wounds. It was a hasty job with globs of strong smelling poultice smeared all over his chest, but it had done the job. Dylan knew the bruises didn’t look as bad as they should.

He stepped eagerly into the shower and turned the spout.

The second the water hit his face Dylan’s chest seized up. The walls pressed up against him, blocking him, trapping him in! _He was going to die here just like his dad—_

A jolt of blinding pain coursed through his entire body as Dylan slipped onto the shower floor. He glanced around bewildered, chest heaving. Where was, what . . .

Shower—shower not the safe. He was in the observatory and Tressler was in jail. This was just, just residual memory, that’s all. Perfectly normal. Dylan’s body trembled as he gingerly pushed himself back up, hissing at the throbbing pain in his spine.

Well that was embarrassing. Hopefully his fall didn’t attract any unwanted attention. Dylan shook his head and tried again.

The water came rushing in—it was too fast—he’d be submerged in seconds—he should be coming up with a plan but all he could think about was the water that swallowed up his dad and never gave him back—oh god he was going to die like his dad and _no one would know—_

Dylan’s head smacked against the rear shower wall. “Sh-shit! Dammit!”

It seemed showering was out of the question. He thought his nerves were dulled from exhaustion but apparently that wasn’t the case. In this tired state he didn’t have the patience to work through the memories. He desperately needed to get clean though, so a bath it was.

Dylan cradled the back of his head and stepped out of the tub. He changed the spout pressure and plugged the drain. It felt odd kneeling there buck naked, but Dylan couldn’t bring himself to care. Once he was clean he could collapse on a soft, warm bed and sleep for a week. It was the perfect solution to calm his frazzled nerves.

Once the tub was filled sufficiently, Dylan eased himself into the water. The level was rising, already at his waist— _he couldn’t breathe—_

Dylan ripped aside the curtain and tumbled onto the frigid tile. His chest heaved with rasping breathes and his stomach churned. The dinner from earlier came rushing up his throat and Dylan barely made it to the toilet in time. His nose and throat burned as his body alternated between gasping for air and emptying his stomach contents.

When the spasms ended Dylan collapsed against the toilet seat, utterly spent. His eyes stung as he choked on the whimpers that bubbled in his throat.

Oh god, how had his life come to this? 

He wiped his chin then gurgled the taste out of his mouth. Sleep—that was what he needed. He hadn’t gotten much at all, so his nerves were all on edge. That’s all it was. A good night’s sleep and he’d no longer be freaking out over stupid things like showers and baths.

The fact remained he was still filthy and smelled, though. He _had_ to get clean somehow. His eyes settled on the sink. It wasn’t the fastest or most efficient way, but it would get the job done. His mind made up, Dylan grabbed his supplies and turned on the faucet. If he used as little water as possible and didn’t put a constant stream of water over his head, he should be fine.

It definitely took some work, but Dylan left the bathroom feeling clean. It wasn’t nearly as relaxing as he had hoped, but he no longer smelled like river scum and fish.

Merritt passed him, towel slung over his shoulder. He nodded at Dylan’s drying hair and smirked. “Bet that felt good, didn’t it?” Dylan tried for a smile but his lower back was still throbbing from his earlier fall. Merritt’s eyes narrowed and Dylan smoothed out the pinched look in his expression. Not that it did any good. “You all right?”

“Dozed off in there for a second and slipped,” Dylan said. Technically it wasn’t a lie.

Merritt cringed. “Tough luck, bro. Hope you feel better in the morning.”

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

Dylan shut the door to his room and whimpered in relief. The four-poster bed looked heavenly. He immediately buried himself under the covers and went right to sleep.

\--

_He gasped and sputtered as the water rushed over him. In the dim light of his phone Dylan grasped at the door, searching for a way out. This was a prototype, his father’s trial run—there had to be a way to escape! But the safe wasn’t airtight and the water kept coming in. He was cramped enough as it was and he had to come up with something fast or else he die in here! He’d die and Tressler would kill the others next—_

Dylan jolted awake. He was drenched in sweat, it was dark, and he was tangled in his sheets. For a split second it felt like he was still stuck in that safe, but the dim glow of his windows told him otherwise. Dylan struggled with the bedsheets, unable to release himself fast enough with his body shaking as badly as it was.

When he finally broke free, Dylan glanced at the clock and moaned. He had barely been asleep for a full hour! All he wanted was some goddamn sleep! Why couldn’t he have just that? He already couldn’t take a simple shower! How the hell was he going to function if he couldn’t sleep?

 _Pull yourself together. You’re alive, you’re safe, you’re not drowning._ Why was this so difficult? The whole experience in the safe had been less than ten minutes, so why was it affecting him now, many hours later?

 _You know why_ , a small corner of his mind said. Dylan dismissed the thought. Sure, it was frightening, even downright terrifying, but he was a grown man for god’s sake. He was a genius, a mastermind at his craft. He fooled the FBI for years and never broke character. He was secure enough in himself to separate Dylan Shrike from Dylan Rhodes.

This behavior was unacceptable. His brush with terror was small and insignificant, nowhere near long enough to warrant such a reaction.

But what to do? Well, he supposed that going to bed right after his harrowing experience trying to take a shower wasn’t the best of ideas. It was no wonder he had nightmares about it.

He needed a distraction. Dylan clicked on his bedside lamp and walked to the small bookshelf in his room. There were on all his favorite magical subjects and Dylan chuckled in spite of himself. The Eye was eerily thorough.

He perused the tomes for a minute before choosing "The Art and History of Throwing Cards." He’d read it before, a long time ago, and knew there was no mention of escapism magic. In fact, the topic made him chuckle, thinking back to the time where Jack managed to “elude” him using these very tricks. Of course, Dylan could have snatched a card or two out of the air and thrown it back at Jack, but that wasn’t part of the plan. Plus, he had to hand it to the kid—he presented the first real challenge Dylan had seen in years. It was hard to keep a smile off his face during the fight.

With that happy thought in mind, Dylan settled on his bed and began to read. His eyelids were already heavy, so it was only a matter of time before he fell asleep.

\--

_“This should bring back childhood memories.”_

_Dylan’s already bruised ribs were pierced with icy spasms. He was a child again, trapped in his nightmares where he was in the safe in place of his father. Instead he was going to drown with no way out._

_Only this time it was real. Walter’s men were dragging him toward the safe. A blind panic overtook him and Dylan fought back. He couldn’t let them do this! He’d never make it out!_

_But he wasn’t strong enough. Walter’s men had already beaten him harshly. There was blood in his mouth and he couldn’t see straight and he couldn’t breathe and they were stuffing him in the safe—_

Dylan bolted upright, gasping for air with arms flailing. He squinted against the bright sunlight and then down at the book in his lap. _Looks like it worked,_ he thought. _I just hope I didn’t oversleep—_

11:45pm

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” It wasn’t sunlight, just the light of his lamp. 

Why couldn't he just sleep? He was so damn tired. He hadn’t gotten much rest at all since the Octa incident. How could he with his Horsemen in danger?

And why was he such a mess? He'd succeeded in avenging his father months ago, this should have been finished! But then he had to confront Thaddeus once again and break him out of jail, subjecting himself to hours of the man’s condescending attitude. Going back to Macau resurfaced painful memories of outings with his dad, especially when he saw that damn safe! Then his nightmare spilled into real life and he almost died— 

It was too much, too much. Dylan grasped the sides of his head and curled to his knees. He didn’t cry _(he hadn’t cried since that night his father died)_ but he was close, closer than he’d ever been before. 

Tremors coursed through his body from the strain of holding back his sobs, which clawed at his throat and left it sore. Dylan fought against the pain by digging his nails into his scalp. A few tears trailed down his face and Dylan clenched his eyes tight. Desperate, his mind latched onto some inane passage he had to memorize back in the FBI Academy. He repeated it to himself, over and over in his head as he rocked back and forth.

He needed to pull himself together, pull himself together . . .


End file.
